As I write this, there is a large flaming orb in the sky. Either I am running a fever, or it is emitting heat. All the newly bloomed plants and leaves are reaching for it as if it provides some sort of sustenance. If I look at it, my eyes water and burn, and I see spots after I avert my gaze. I will stop looking at it, but I am afraid. Perhaps it is angry. Have I displeased it somehow?

Oh, wait. Right. It’s the sun. I had forgotten all about it. Even as I complete this sentence, it is gone again. I may have only dreamed it. The soft whisper of rain has resumed, a seemingly ceaseless soundtrack for this sodden spring.